Never Surrender
by ShadowPillow
Summary: Ed will never surrender to Winry. Her and her automail.


A/N: I wanted to write something, so I started writing something about writing. Then I closed my notebook and a few days later I replaced the first word "his" with "Ed" when I combined this idea: (gah, can't find the link right now, it's a pic on deviantART and it has to do with Ed's automail and his hair...) with this other idea, and everything else. So, yup. An FMA oneshot about Ed's automail rehabilitation years. (And wow, this one's actually long-ish!)

By the way, the title and the last line are sort of meant to be ironic. Watch out for the white flag.

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><p><strong>Never Surrender<strong>

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><p>Ed's pen flew across the paper. His wrist making hurried flicking motion and fine script appearing beneath. There was a small smile on his face, triumphant at success after all the effort learning to write left-handed.<p>

"Brother?" The pen stopped scribbling. Determined golden eyes turned to the large suit of armor at the door, a genuine, wide smile growing from the already-twitched lips.

"Hey, Al. Anything up?" The helmet turned side to side in the armor, and Alphonse sat down in the chair next to Ed.

"Nothing really. Winry was wondering if you're up to going out today." The smile vanished, replaced by a scowl.

"Tell that gear freak she doesn't need to worry about me. I'm fine! And her precious automail too."

"Brother..." An audible sigh was heard from the armor. "You know she cares about you."

"Yeah? Well –" Ed stopped though, a softer look instead crossing his previously annoyed face. "I know she does, Al. Tell her I'll be down in a minute." Alphonse nodded and exited the room, taking care to duck his head as he passed through the doorway. But then, instead of continuing on to Winry, he paused by the door.

"Brother?" He had heard the pen scribbling again.

"Yeah, Al?" He sounded so tired. But Al could still hear the gentleness of his voice.

"Do you need any help?" A pause, then a chair scraping across the wooden floorboards. Uneven steps, and suddenly Ed was standing in front of Al.

"See here? I'm fine." Al would've smiled if he could. Ed had always been so stubborn.

"I see, Ed. I meant with your hair." Al gestured at Ed's loose locks, and the older boy blushed, his right hand automatically reaching for the hair.

"I was planning on – gah!" Suddenly, hair threads were twisted around the automail hand, jamming joints and locking the hand next to his head. Ed's eyes widened.

"It – It got stuck!"

For a moment, Al could only stare. Then, an echoing chuckle resounded from the helmet.

"Brother! You need to be more careful!" Ed glared, affronted, but it looked ridiculous with the automail hand still sticking from his hair. "Come on, Winry can probably help you." His glare grew fiercer, and Al sighed.

"Brother..." He knew that disappointing tone would get to him, and he wasn't disappointed.

"Alright, alright!" Only one hand raised into the "surrender" position. "I'll ask the gear head to help." Again, Al wished he could grin at his brother.

...

But when they finally arrived, he was very glad that he couldn't feel the pain Ed was experiencing.

_Thwump! _A very solid, metal wrench struck Ed's head. An angry girl stood yelling at us in the kitchen.

"Hey! I worked hard to make that automail! And you already messed it up!" Ed gulped.

"Winry –"

"Let me see." She held out her hand imperiously and Ed reluctantly stepped up to her.

"I can't move it. It's stuck to my hair –" But before he knew it, she had a pair of scissors in her hand and snapped off the tangled locks. She immediately snatched up the hand and began pocking at it with mysterious screwdrivers and other tools appearing from who-knows-where.

Meanwhile, Ed was staring at her, jaw dropped.

"You – you just cut off my hair," he said disbelievingly.

"Don't be such a baby," she muttered absentmindedly, pulling out tangled messes of hair from his hand. "It was too long anyway."

"She's right, Ed." Ed turned his upper body to gawk at Al.

"Al! You traitor!"

"What were you going to do anyway?" Winry asked curiously, finally looking up from her work. "Run around looking like a girl?" Ed's blush returned.

"I – I was not! I was going to braid it!" he protested, but an evil smirk appeared on her face.

"You know, many _girls _have braided hair too."

"I – I'm not –" he sputtered, but Winry continued talking.

"And what are you going to do about _this –_" she lifted the arm slightly, "– anyway? Putting your hair up isn't going to stop this." The blush deepened, and Winry sighed, finally deciding that this was enough of torturing Ed for one day. "Alright, I think I got all the hair out." She let his hand go, and he clutched it protectively to his chest. "But you better cut your hair or do _something_, cause I'm not doing this again, all right?" She glared and held up her wrench menacingly to prove her point. Ed gulped.

"Yes, ma'am." But then a thoughtful look passed his face. "What's with the wrenches anyway?"

"To hit you if you mess up the automail again." She must have sensed his horror because she smiled sweetly and added, "Or if you do anything else bad."

"R – right..." Ed stuttered nervously and looked around. "Well, I gotta get back to... practicing my writing! Right, Al?" Alphonse started at his name. He had been staring at the scene with the rapt attention of an audience watching a play unfold.

"Right!" They quickly made their way back to their shared room in the Rockbell house. Ed sat in his chair and shivered for a moment, but soon his gaze turned defiant.

"I'm not going to cut my hair," he said, jutting his chin out. Al hesitated, then voiced his doubts.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Ed scowled.

"I'm not stupid, Al. I can't let my automail get tangled up like that again." Then a smirk spread across his face, and he pulled out gloved from his pocket and waved them in the air like a white flag. "I'll just wear these."

After all, Edward Elric would never surrender to Winry.


End file.
